


All out of Faith

by tiniestawoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcoholic Stiles Stilinski, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Theo Raeken, Escort Theo Raeken, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Rehabilitation, Sex Worker Theo Raeken, Theo Raeken is Part of the Pack, Top Stiles Stilinski, honestly this probably qualifies for, mentions of past stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo
Summary: He wandered down the hallway towards room 605 and rapped gently on the door, folding his hands politely in front of him and pasting on his ‘work smile.’ It wasalmosta smirk but not quite. He intentionally softened the expression in his eyes. When he’d started, some of the clients had said he was ‘intimidating.’ Now, though, Theo knew how to make himself seem small and non-threatening.The entire facade fell to pieces, though, when the hotel room door swung open to reveal none other than a scruffy, exhausted looking Stiles Stilinski.Instead of his usual introduction of, “Hi, my name is Theo, I think you were expecting me?” followed by a wink, the first words out of his mouth were, “You look like shit.”--Or, the one where Theo's a high-end Escort that gets hired by the most unexpected person, and that person frankly needs more help than Theo can give.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84
Collections: SteoWeek 2020





	All out of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME TO MY CONTRIBUTIONS FOR STEO WEEK 2020!!
> 
> Let me tell you, back when I decided to participate in this week, this was NOT the story I thought I'd be writing. Siren!Stiles was basically a closed verse, and I didn't have many ideas. Then, the idea of Theo as a sex worker was dropped into my lap alongside the desire to write _Theo_ with his shit together for a change. 
> 
> Shout out to both [Sin](http://sinofthewolf.tumblr.com/) and [Julia](http://luulapants.tumblr.com/) for reading this over and keeping my spirits up about it! I appreciate y'all so much!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Theo flipped down the visor and glanced in the mirror one last time. When he’d first started working this job, he used to go overboard with the makeup. It had been hit or miss back then – some of them noticed and liked it, and some of them hated it. Most of the time it had ended up rubbed into hotel pillows anyway.

These days he was much more relaxed about it, a smudge of (always waterproof, advice he’d gotten from a friend) eyeliner to darken his lash line, a coating of clear mascara to make his eyelashes seem just a smidge darker, and a thick layer of chapstick. He grinned at himself in the mirror and flipped it up, reaching for the bottle of water at his side and chugging it down.

Even now, ten successful years into his career as an escort, Theo was never sure exactly what he was walking into. Tonight, a new client instead one of his veritable army of regulars, offered even less information. Most of his clients were middle aged men who’d repressed their sexuality long enough to grow bored with their wives. Some of them were divorced or loney. All of them just wanted attention. 

Theo had learned they tipped better if he politely pretended to listen. Being quiet had, after all, been a skill he’d perfected during his horrific childhood. Every time he used one of his hardwired behaviors to his advantage, he got a little kick out of it. A ‘fuck you’ to the worst of humanity. After the doctors, it took a lot more than some human who got a little rough to scare Theo.

Which really, made him perfect for this job.

Content that he looked fine, and hydrated enough to survive the next twelve hours even if his client was a dick, Theo climbed out of his car and locked it behind him. He adjusted himself slightly in his fitted dress pants, patted his back pocket for his work wallet – always empty of actual identification in case he was walking into a sting – and slid his keys into his front pocket. 

Glancing at his phone as he waited at the elevator of the swanky downtown San Francisco hotel, he reviewed the information the service had sent him: _34, independently employed, initials M.S., requested discretion, Intercontinental San Francisco, room 605._

They all requested discretion. Nobody wanted to be _open_ about the fact that they were paying a truly ridiculous amount of money for a few hours company and some sex. Theo didn’t really care, but also, there wasn’t really anyone in his life _to_ care. 

He was far enough away from the pack that aside from occasional dinners with Hayden and Liam when they were in town, weddings and birthdays, he hardly saw them. Most of his friends these days were _also_ sex workers of all kinds. They hung out and commiserated about bad sex and Theo occasionally taught some of the younger ones self-defense.

(Another ‘fuck you’ to the monsters who’d made him what he was.)

Independently employed always made Theo quirk an eyebrow, because it could mean so many things. Were they an entrepreneur? A criminal?nIndependently wealthy and not working? It was definitely more interesting than ‘accountant’ or, on one particularly memorable occasion, ‘state senator.’

He wandered down the hallway towards room 605 and rapped gently on the door, folding his hands politely in front of him and pasting on his ‘work smile.’ It was _almost_ a smirk but not quite. He intentionally softened the expression in his eyes. When he’d started, some of the clients had said he was ‘intimidating.’ Now, though, Theo knew how to make himself seem small and non-threatening.

The entire facade fell to pieces, though, when the hotel room door swung open to reveal none other than a scruffy, exhausted looking Stiles Stilinski. 

Instead of his usual introduction of, “Hi, my name is Theo, I think you were expecting me?” followed by a wink, the first words out of his mouth were, “You look like shit.”

Stiles’s eyes – warm brown and framed by dark lashes – went wide and his mouth dropped open before an incredulous, near-hysterical laugh slipped from between his lips. “You’re...oh fuck.” He doubled over with the force of his laughter and stumbled backwards unsteadily into the hotel room.

Theo rolled his eyes and stepped through the door, closing it and flipping the deadbolt. Whatever the _fuck_ was going on here, Theo was still a professional. He certainly wasn’t about to have this conversation with the door open. “Y’know, I don’t know what’s more amusing, that you’re laughing because I’m an escort, or the fact that _you’re the one that hired me_.” 

Stiles had righted himself and somewhat contained the hysterical laughter, though Theo could see occasional shakes in his chest. “It’s just my fucking luck, honestly. Of course it had to be you.”

“Where’s your _wife,_ Stiles?” Theo reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He had been emotionally prepared for _work_ not _crisis intervention_.

“Ex-wife!” Stiles too-cheerfully corrected, spinning around and walking towards the desk in the corner of the room.

“Since when?” Lydia and Stiles had divorced? He knew that he was really out of the fucking loop with the pack, but surely _someone_ might have mentioned it at some point. 

Theo watched as Stiles dug through a duffel bag and withdrew a small silver flask. He unscrewed the cap and tipped it into his mouth. The smell of alcohol cut through to Theo’s senses, and Theo allowed himself to drag in a long breath, trying to piece together whatever Stiles wasn’t saying from the blend of scents and chemosignals. 

As a rule, Theo didn’t smell his clients. He was a well-paid fuck buddy not a therapist. This, though, was turning out to be the most abnormal night of work he’d ever had. He watched as Stiles took several more draws from the flask and let himself ponder what he could smell. Mostly, Stiles smelled like alcohol and sweat. Underneath it, there was a lot of loneliness, some residual jealousy, and pent up frustration. 

Screwing the cap back onto the flask, Stiles dropped onto the corner of the bed. “Since last year. Apparently – get this – She’s dating _Derek_ now.” 

Well that explained the jealousy. It rose back to the fore of Stiles’s scent profile. Theo crossed his arms over his chest. “She just...called to tell you that? Does she know you’re…” A mess of a human being? Drinking to excess? _Independently Employed_. “Not working for the FBI?”

“Oh, I quit like four years ago. Dad tried to warn me that I wouldn’t be able to solve all of them but…” Stiles laughed quietly and stood up to go stand by the window, glancing out over the dark city. “I guess it’s hard to explain to a literal serial killer how it feels to know that someone is getting away with butchering kids and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

 _That_ was a button nobody had pressed in a while. Generally, there was an unspoken ‘We don’t talk about Senior Year’ rule in the pack. Theo had done what he could to prove he was no longer a threat, helped where he could, and then mostly stayed out of everyone's way. “Try me.” He offered, dropping onto the corner of the bed that Stiles had vacated.

There was something going on here. Something more than a case Stiles couldn’t solve and a divorce. Something more than finding out your ex-wife had a new boyfriend. Theo had _years_ of practice listening to people blather on about bullshit, making them feel comfortable and like he was a safe person to talk to. Now, he was doing it for Stiles, making himself small, giving Stiles the power to talk or not. 

Stiles turned around, leaning against the windowsill. His arms were crossed over his chest, the flask still dangling from his hand. His eyes were bloodshot and darkly shadowed. His face looked thin, like eating wasn’t really much of a priority to him. His face was unshaven, a few days of stubble on his cheeks and chin. His tongue darted out to lick chapped lips. “You want me to _talk_ to you?”

Theo shrugged. “You’re the one paying me to be here. I don’t really care _what_ we do.” 

“Oh right, I almost forgot.” Stiles narrowed his eyes and unscrewed the lid on the flask, taking another drag from it. “Theo Raeken the _escort_.” 

“Using my job title as an insult loses its sting when you’re the one who hired the escort, Stiles.” Theo said, offering a small smile. “Why did you and Lydia break up?”

Stiles shook his head, letting out a sigh. Theo could smell the alcohol on his breath from across the room. Stiles held up the flask. “Apparently she thinks I have a _problem._ ” 

Theo thought she was probably right, but didn’t bother to say it. “So, what, you started drinking and she decided to divorce you?” 

“Oh, no, no. She tried.” Stiles’s face was split by a smile that did not at all match the tone with which he spoke. “Tried to get me to go to AA meetings, to talk to a therapist. She even tried to convince me to tell my _dad_ about the problem but….what do I say? Sorry for the fact that I watched you drink yourself nearly to death after Mom. Turns out I’m just like you?”

“And yet here you are. Alone, hiring an escort. Were you already drunk when I got here?” 

“I had like, three beers at the hotel bar before you got here. And where the fuck else would I be?”

“Maybe in Beacon Hills? With your _family_. Y’know, since you have one of those. Dad, step-mom, step-brother, sister in law? A whole happy family of people who give a shit about you?” 

“What the fuck do _you_ know about family, Theo?” 

Theo laughed at that, quietly. “I did have one, at one point in time.” 

Stiles’s resistance to the situation seemed to be losing the battle against the alcohol that he’d consumed. “I can’t go back to Beacon Hills. Dad and Melissa are happy. Dad’s about to retire. Scott and Malia are _content_ with their white picket fence and two and a half kids and a dog.” 

Oh, Scott had gotten a dog? That was news to Theo. “So, drinking yourself to death is a better alternative?”

“Y’know I hired you for a fuck, not a judgy as _fuck_ therapy session.” 

“Okay.” Theo said, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. 

“Wait.” Stiles unfolded his arms, and contorted his face into an almost comically confused expression. “You’d still fuck me?” 

“It’s my _job_ to fuck you,” Theo said, continuing his way down the buttons. “Besides, if you think you’re the first sad, drunk divorcee that I’ve had sex with, you’d be very mistaken.” He stood up and walked towards the hanging bar of hotel-provided hangers. “Are you into the whole ‘dressed while your partner isn’t’ kink?”

Stiles blinked a few times and set the flask down, reaching for the hem of his own T-shirt and tugging it up over his head. “This doesn’t mean _anything_ ,” he said. 

Theo, undressed down to his briefs, glanced at the ceiling with a chuckle. “Don’t worry Stiles, I never get attached.” 

Stiles stepped towards him, still in his pants, and reached out to run his hand down Theo’s arm. It was a softer touch than many had given him, and the hesitation made Theo’s heart flutter in an unexpected way. Stiles’s eyes flicked from head to toe and back, his scent growing deep and spicy as his arousal grew. “You always were pretty.” 

Theo tried to ignore the implication of that _always_ and leaned into Stiles’s touch, bringing his own hands to rest at Stiles’s waist. “You’re a talker, aren’t you?” he said with a grin, pulling Stiles in so that their hips crashed together, sliding one of his hands up from his hip to the sensitive, mole-dotted pale skin of his side. 

Stiles was still staring, his other hand limp at his side and his eyes fluttered to half-lidded with Theo’s touch. How long had it been since Stiles had been touched by someone – by anyone who cared? Theo knew that asking these questions was dangerous, so instead of allowing his brain to go any deeper down _that_ path, he brought his hand to Stiles’s jaw. “How do you want to do this?” 

“I’ve never uh, hired someone before,” Stiles snarked, and possibly one of the only genuine smiles Theo had seen that night crossed his lips. “Aren’t you the professional?”

Theo chuckled quietly to himself and licked his lips. “Thank god I got this assignment. I don’t know if any of the younger ones would have known what to do with your particular brand of stubborn, needy ass.” 

“You have really shitty customer service skills, y’know?” Stiles said, but finally, _finally_ his other hand moved to grip at Theo’s hip. 

“It’s really easier if you _forget_ the part where this is a monetary exchange.” Theo spun them, walking backwards until he felt his legs hit the edge of the bed, and then releasing Stiles. “Are we doing this or not?”

Stiles blinked a few times, clearly slipping into the fog of alcohol. Theo could almost see the moment where Stiles made the “fuck it” decision, and a moment later crashed their mouths together. 

Stiles’s kiss was hard and needy, but his lips were soft and he brought both of his hands around to grip Theo’s ass. Theo tried to push everything away but the job. He focused on running his hands down Stiles’s sides and glancing one of his thumbs over one of his nipples. Stiles broke the kiss to whisper a curse, panting against Theo’s lips.

“It’s been a long time.” Stiles breathed. “Sorry, I just...need a second.” 

“Take as many seconds as you need.” Theo reassured, still trying to distance himself from the situation again. It was hard with the way Stiles clinged to him, like being able to touch Theo, and be touched, was a gift, something to be cherished. He tried to ignore the scent of loneliness that was all around the room, loneliness that Stiles was trying and failing to mask with the alcohol. 

He had so many questions but decided to avoid asking any of them by pressing a line of kisses to the trail of moles that lead from Stiles’s cheek down his neck and to his shoulder. He reached to flick the button open on Stiles’s jeans, pushing them down and palming the bulge in the boxer briefs he revealed. “You still haven’t told me what you want.” Theo said, running his thumb over the wet spot the head had left. 

“Is there like, a catalogue or something?” Stiles chuckled, his breath hitching as Theo found the sensitive spot under the head of his dick.

“There’s very little I’m not up for.” Theo said, dropping to a seat on the bed and leaning forward to mouth at the fabric over Stiles’s dick. “And technically we have all night.” 

Stiles tipped his head up towards the ceiling as Theo teased. Something on the ceiling must have been particularly inspiring, because when Stiles looked back down at Theo, his eyes – heavily lidded and dark – were glittering dangerously. Theo was surprised that he had to bite back a groan at that particular expression. There was something about Stiles that struck him as more dangerous than the average client. “I wanna fuck you.” 

“Sure.” Theo said. He crawled backwards, crossing his legs at the ankle and propping himself up on his elbows. “Did you bring lube, or do we need to call room service.” 

A bottle of lube - fresh from the store from the looks of it - landed in the center of the hotel bed, and Stiles was in the process of draining the last of the alcohol from his flask. “It was on the list of shit to bring with you.”

“Oh, you looked at the list?” Theo grinned and reached for the bottle, peeling off the safety plastic with a claw and tossing it aside. Stiles made a noise that might have been a whine, Theo looked up, running his tongue over his lower lip. “All these years in a werewolf pack, Stiles, did you ever get to fuck one?”

“Two,” Stiles said with a chuckle. “Or well...Malia’s a werecoyote.” 

Theo quirked an eyebrow and pushed up onto his knees, sliding the briefs down and tossing them aside, settling onto his knees so that he could reach back to prep himself. “Who else?” Theo asked, flicking the top of the lube bottle open.

Suddenly, Stiles’s hand was there, covering the top of it. “Lay on your stomach.” Stiles said. 

There was an air of dominance to his voice that Theo hadn’t been expecting, but it sent a shiver of excitement down his back. He peeled back the covers to reveal luxuriously soft sheets and piled a few pillows together under his head before settling down on his stomach. It wasn’t unheard of for a client to want to prep him, but it certainly wasn’t common. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

Slick, cool fingers spread his cheeks and circled his hole. Theo felt his body relax instinctively as Stiles’s finger breached him. For someone who had been married to a woman as long as Stiles had, he certainly seemed confident in what he was doing. 

“Isaac Lahey,” Stiles said. Theo felt his other hand resting at Theo’s lower back. “I don’t know if you ever met him.” 

“I think he was there at one of the weddings. I didn’t get the impression he liked you very much.” Theo turned his head so he could watch Stiles out of the corner of his eye. 

Stiles was focused and Theo made the decision to stop repressing sounds he made. As Stiles’s finger found his prostate Theo groaned. The groan bought him a grin from Stiles and then Theo heard the lube crack open again, and a second finger slowly joined the first. Stiles was being exceedingly polite. It had been over three minutes and he had not yet tried to just shove his cock up Theo’s ass.

“You asked me if I’d ever fucked a werewolf.” Stiles shifted around, his fingers shifting in response and drawing a gasp from Theo’s throat. “Who said I have to _like_ someone to fuck them.” The two fingers in his ass crooked and stroked once again against Theo’s prostate. 

“Point.” Theo said, shifting so his weight was on his knees and he could more easily thrust back against the fingers. Damn it, if Stiles was going to be good at this, Theo was sure as fuck going to let himself enjoy it. “Where’d you learn to do this anyway?” 

“Have you ever met my ex-wife? Did you think _I_ was the dominant partner in that relationship?” Stiles laughed, though Theo could still hear the sad undertone to it, and Theo felt him press a wet kiss to Theo’s hip. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of practice on myself. I can make this good for you.”

“You’re already doing better than like, eighty percent of my clients.” Theo said, genuinely. “But don’t let that go to your head.”

The words seemed to have the intended effect, and Stiles bit his bottom lip and spent several minutes spreading Theo open. Theo knew from experience he could probably take Stiles now, even if he was bigger than average. Stiles, though, pressed a third finger in alongside the other two and Theo let out a moan at the stretch, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“What do I have to do to be better than 90 percent of your clients?” Stiles asked, his words slurred slightly but the intention clear. 

“Actually make an effort to make me come.” Theo said, coolly. The truth was Stiles was surprisingly skilled at this, and seemed dedicated to making it enjoyable for Theo. That alone put him in the upper echelon of a sex worker’s clientele. 

“I think I can probably manage that.” Stiles withdrew his fingers. “Condom?” 

“Up to you.” Theo said, wriggling his hips at the sudden empty feeling. “It’s not like I can give _you_ anything.”

“You’d let me fuck you bare?” Stiles asked, incredulous.

Theo turned to look at Stiles. “If you don’t bitch if the eyes and fangs come out, I’ll let you do whatever you want.” 

Stiles leaned forward and pressed another needy kiss to Theo’s lips. “Roll over.” He murmured. “If you’re gonna flash eyes and fangs I wanna see it.” 

Theo chuckled but did as he was asked, letting Stiles settle between his spread legs. His dick was hard against his stomach and Stiles’s eyes narrowed in on it, licking his lips before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the head of Theo’s dick, sucking at it clumsily, but eagerly. Theo let his head tip back. “Y’know usually it would be me sucking _your_ dick.” He breathed as Stiles reached back between his legs to press two fingers back into his hole.

Stiles popped off Theo’s dick, “What can I say? I once considered myself a _giving_ lover.” He sucked it back down, effectively cutting off Theo’s reply. The self-deprecating tone of the words and casual use of the word lover were both _definitely_ problematic coming from Stiles and given the situation.

Strangely enough, Theo couldn’t really bring himself to care. _Just a job._ He reminded himself. _This means nothing to either of us_. 

“God please just fuck me already.” Theo let an edge of neediness slip into his voice, and watched as the hunger lit anew in Stiles’s eyes. “I want to come on your cock.” 

Stiles sat back and spread Theo’s legs further, lifting one over his shoulder and rubbing lube over his own hard cock (Theo had been right about the size judgement) before lining himself up at Theo’s hole. “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” Stiles murmured, rubbing the head of his cock against Theo’s entrance.

“And you’re a fucking tease.” Theo felt his eyes go yellow and watched Stiles exhale rapidly, eyes going wide. “Fuck me already, Stilinski.” 

Finally Stiles pressed forward, and Theo let out a curse at the stretch, eyes slipping closed. Once again there was care in every one of Stiles’s actions, as the other took his time entering Theo, giving him a moment to revel in the feeling of fullness once he was all the way in. Stiles turned his face to the side and pressed a kiss to Theo’s knee. “You good?”

Theo opened his eyes and pulled his lower lip into his mouth by his teeth, just a hint of fang visible if Stiles knew to look for it. It turned out he did because he pushed Theo’s leg to the side slightly so he could lean forward and kiss Theo again. His tongue slid against the sharp tooth hands on either side of Theo’s face, gripping possessively. 

“Fuck me.” Theo said against Stile’s lips. “Please.” 

Stiles pulled away, braced his arms against the bed, and did, snapping his hips in careful, practiced thrusts that left Theo more breathless than he was willing to admit. Stiles’s eyes burned into his, full of neediness and want and lust. Theo was used to the person on top of him _feeling_ like they were dominant, he was _not_ used to agreeing with them.

But he had a sneaking suspicion he’d let Stiles do anything to him, and Stiles would have the gall to make Theo _enjoy_ it. 

Theo brought his hands up, claws out just because he could, and wrapped them around the back of Stiles’s neck, running a sharp nail gently along the skin at the base of his head. Theo knew – and he suspected Stiles did too – that with determination, slipping claws in here, at the back of the head, could do a lot of things - including kill him.

Stiles groaned and leaned forward, kissing Theo again, hot and wet, the taste of blood adding a metallic tang to the kiss when Stiles pressed his tongue too sharply against a fang. “Fuck.” Stiles cursed, breaking the kiss and burying his face against Theo’s neck. Theo wasn’t quite a werewolf, but he still bared his neck eagerly, feeling Stiles press a line of kisses along the most sensitive part of him. 

“Let me ride you,” Theo said, wrapping his legs around Stiles’s waist and gripping tightly. He didn’t wait for permission before he rolled them. It was nice to fuck someone who wasn’t immediately concerned that someone Theo’s size could manipulate their bodies so easily. Stiles just rested back against the pillow, panting slightly, a sheen of sweat dotting his brow. 

Theo wriggled his hips as he sank down, reveling in how much deeper it felt like this. Stiles tucked his hand behind his head and smirked at Theo. Theo gave him a toothy grin and then leaned forward, rocking himself forward and then back onto Stiles’s dick. He let his head drop and focused on what he was doing. If he could get the angle right, it would be good for both of them.

“Look at me.” Stiles said, and Theo felt a hand grip his hair tightly. His eyes flashed yellow again as he looked up to stare at Stiles. He kept their eyes locked together, but kept the rhythm he’d started. Once, an action like this would have had his legs burning from the exertion, but now it was routine. Stiles was clearly mesmerized, his eyes fixed on Theo’s. 

It wasn’t long before Stiles’s grip in Theo’s hair tightened, and he let out a cursed, “Fuck I’m close.” 

“Come in me.” Theo said, surprising himself. He _hated_ when people pulled that shit, but for some reason, here it felt right. Stiles had a hand in his hair, and eyes burning into Theo’s with a ferocity that could have belonged to any werewolf. Stiles snapped his hips up quickly to meet Theo’s downward thrusts, and that had Theo cursing quietly.

The way his name fell off of Stiles’s lips was somewhere between a curse and a promise, the first syllable sharp, and the ‘oh’ fading away as Theo felt the hot splash of Stiles’s come inside of him. Theo was overwhelmed by it all, actively enjoying this more than he’d enjoyed sex in a long time, and reached quickly to stroke his own dick, only to have his hand batted away by Stiles, who jerked Theo in quick, consistent strokes. 

Theo came across Stiles’s chest, Stiles’s dick still inside him. He’d rolled to the side once he was done, laying on his back and trying to sort through his feelings about whatever the fuck had just happened. _None_ of it was normal. He didn’t usually care about getting off himself, unless it was something the client was into.

He didn’t care if his clients smelled lonely or needed affection. He didn’t ask them to come in his ass or switch positions mid sex out of his own desire. That wasn’t how this worked. It was a job. He was there to do what _they_ wanted. Stiles, though, hadn’t objected. He’d just gone with it. And it had been easy. So, mindlessly easy that for just a moment Theo forgot where he was.

The room smelled like sex and sweat and arousal, but finally, Theo couldn’t smell the loneliness that had been so pervasive. Stiles seemed content, stretched out on the bed, naked, his chest still raising and falling from the exertion. Theo knew it was a bad idea to ask but he couldn’t _not._ He couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not yet. 

Stiles was _Pack_ damn it. Theo had not worked this hard to get into the McCall pack just to turn away one of his packmates when they needed something. 

“Do you want me to stay the night?” 

Stiles rolled his head to the side to look at Theo, “You’d do that?” he asked.

The fragility there made Theo pause. This was _such_ a bad idea. Sure, Stiles was a packmate, but he was also a client. And he was fragile and Theo knew from experience that it was only a matter of time before Stiles decided that clearly Theo’s affection meant that they were dating. 

He wasn’t sure what terrified him more: the thought, or the fact that he didn’t _hate_ the idea.

He yawned and sat up. “Yeah, if you want. I mean, you paid for overnight, didn’t you?” 

“I was so wasted when I paid for this I have no idea,” Stiles snorted. 

Theo frowned. The alcohol again. Stiles had seemed together enough during sex that he’d almost fogotten. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He said. He glanced at the empty flask, wondering if there were more of them stashed away. When was the last time Stiles had been sober? 

“Can I join you?” Stiles asked, sitting up and leaning over to press a painfully tender kiss to Theo’s shoulder. 

Theo let a smile slip onto his face, even though his brain was going a million directions and none of them were _happy_. “Sure.”

\--

Theo woke the next morning with arms latched around his waist, and a face buried into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He stayed still for a moment until his brain caught up to where he was and _why_ he was cuddling with Stiles. 

They’d fucked again a few hours after the first, Stiles slurring animatedly about his new job as a PI and how he would occasionally get a good gig, and the money paid for things like his night with Theo. It had turned out that Stiles _did_ have another flask stashed in his duffel, and it had taken actual work for Theo to keep the concern off his face once Stiles had started drinking that.

If anything, he was glad he had stayed, because clearly someone needed to talk to Stiles about this problem. If Stiles was hiding it, for whatever reason, from his father and Scott, it was clearly bad. 

Theo had technically stopped being paid at 8am. He’d known that this was about more than just money for him far sooner than that.

He also was very sure that it was among the worst ideas he’d had in the last _decade._

Theo gently rolled himself out of Stiles’s arms and glanced at his sleeping form, recovering his phone from where he’d left it and staring at the screen. If he was _smart_ he’d just call the True Alpha, tell him what was up, and leave it as someone else’s problem. 

He couldn’t quite put his finger on when he’d started making stupid fucking decisions last night, but he was in too deep to quit now. 

Calling Scott, behind Stiles’s back, would be betraying whatever trust Stiles might have in him. That, and he might have to explain to Scott how he’d come across this information, and while he didn’t _really_ care if people knew he was an escort, there was still something about revealing his profession to the pack that set Theo on edge.

“Mmm, you should order breakfast.” Stiles mumbled quietly into the pillow, his eyes still closed but his body starting to show signs of wakefulness. “Mimosas. No, a bloody Mary. Fuck it, both.”

“I kinda think neither, actually,” Theo said nonchalantly. He slid into his underwear and rested back against the dresser.

Stiles sat up, rubbing at his eyes and frowning in Theo’s general direction. “What the fuck does _that_ mean?” 

“I mean that as part of your pack I can’t let you do this to yourself.” Theo folded his hands around his phone. Blaming it on being pack seemed to be safest.

“Last night you didn’t seem to care that we were pack.” 

“There are no rules about not fucking pack members.”

“So, was it a fuck, or was it you doing your job?” Stiles challenged, his brows drawn together, face set in petulant anger. “Because I thought you made it pretty clear I was your client.”

“What can I say, I’m a complex person, Stiles.” Theo smirked, trying to cover his discomfort with snark. “You can be a client last night and my pack this morning. The bottom line is that you’re killing yourself and I can’t let you do this.” 

“Fuck you, Theo.” Stiles’s icy laugh was back. “Thanks for last night. I’ll be sure to leave a five star review. But now you need to get the fuck out.”

Theo sighed, shaking his head. “If I walk out that door, I’m calling Scott to tell him about your drinking.” Theo didn’t _want_ to play that card, but he would if it meant saving Stiles’s life, and by proxy, saving his pack from a lot of grief.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to tell Scott you’re an escort?”

“If that’s what it takes.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Theo held up his phone and made a pointed act of scrolling through his contacts. He stopped on Scott’s name, finger hovered over the ‘call’ button and showed it to Stiles. “You sure you wanna test me?”

Stiles scrambled for the phone but Theo held it just out of his reach. “Why are you doing this? What the fuck do you get out of it?” 

_Why do you care?_ The question wasn’t asked outright, but Theo could hear it underneath the frustration of Stiles’s tone. “Nothing,” Theo answered honestly. “I get nothing out of this, other than a pack that doesn’t have to grieve someone.”

“I’m not fucking dying!”

“Not now, no.” Theo shrugged one of his shoulders. “But, who knows how long before you end up drunk, in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or god forbid you drive somewhere drunk.” Theo glanced towards the hotel room door and shook his head. “I watched you – helped, really – tear your own life to shreds and you _still_ came out on top. How did you get here?” 

Stiles didn’t reply, just climbed out of the bed and went in search of his own underwear. When he’d found them, and slid them on, he turned back to Theo, one of his own hands threaded into his hair. “It doesn’t matter how I got here,” Stiles said.

Theo rolled his eyes at the defeated tone in Stiles’s voice and crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to call them. Your family. Fuck, at this point even Lydia would probably want to know about this. You have people who love you, and you’re right, I know _fuck all_ about family, but I do know what it’s like not to have one. I know how lonely that can be.”

“Call them to what, add burden and stress back into their lives?”

Theo glanced at the ceiling, hoping to find the patience he was rapidly losing for the situation. This was outside his paygrade, apparently. He headed towards where he’d hung his clothes and started dressing. “Look Stiles, we’re adults. You’re an adult. You have every right to spend your life at the bottom of a bottle being sad because your ex wife decided to start dating a mutual friend. Sure, go for it. But it's a big fucking waste. Because _no one_ had a mind like yours. No one can solve puzzles and fix shit the way you do.” 

Dressed, Theo glanced at Stiles, who had dropped onto the bed and now had both of his hands fisted in his hair. “You can’t do any of that drunk. If you wanna waste your life and your talents, be my guest. But don’t try and pretend like it’s anybody else’s fault. You have family and friends who give a shit. You’re the one who’s isolated yourself.”

Theo gathered his phone, wallet and keys and headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle, and glanced back. “They love you. You have _no idea_ how lucky you are to have so many people love you. Don’t throw that all away out of shame.”

He left, stopping just outside the room to hear a sob wrench itself free from Stiles’s chest, ignoring the thudding of his own. He hadn’t really intended to play that card, but it was the last shot he had. Stiles had so many people who loved him. Theo had no one. He’d burned (or killed, or tortured) those bridges long ago, and now he had to live with it.

Pushing Stiles from his mind, Theo yawned, ran a hand through his hair so it was vaguely more presentable, and headed out of the hotel towards his car.

 _This means nothing._ He reminded himself. _It was just a job._

\--

_6 months later_

Theo glanced at the main building and cocked an eyebrow. For a rehab, it sure looked a lot more like a vacation destination. He didn’t have to wonder too hard about who was footing the bill for this particular expense. Scott made decent money as a vet, Noah and Melissa were comfortable on his pension and her salary. Neither of them had the kind of cash to fund this though. 

Guilty consciences must be expensive.

He leaned back against the door to his car, yawning and glancing around the neatly manicured green spaces and he was pretty sure he could smell chlorine. Rehab had a fucking _pool_ now?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Theo brought his gaze back down to the figure crossing the parking lot towards him. Stiles looked good. His hair had been cut, he was dressed in clothes that didn’t smell like a distillery, and he’d shaved. His eyes, amber in the sunlight, were narrowed in Theo’s direction as he approached. 

“Nice to see you too, Stiles,” Theo said with a smirk. “I’m here to pick you up and take you back to Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles folded his arms over his chest. “Why you?” 

“I was in town and felt like making myself useful,” Theo lied smoothly. Stiles was both too naturally suspicious and calculating. The reason Theo had been chosen to pick Stiles up was because he was the _only_ one who had a prayer of out-playing Stiles at his best.

(For better, and for worse, as history told.)

“I don’t believe you,” Stiles set his jaw. 

“I don’t really care,” Theo replied, shrugging. “Did you want to walk back to Beacon Hills, or did you want to just get your ass in the damn car?” 

Unsurprisingly, Stiles must have realized his options were limited and sighed, walking around to the passenger side of the car. He tossed the duffel into the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat. Theo slid into the car and pulled away.

“You look better,” Theo said, after he’d let Stiles have what he deemed to be adequate time to stew.

Stiles sank back against the seat. “Thanks.” It even almost sounded sincere.

“Do you feel better?” It was at least an hour back to Beacon Hills, and god damn it Theo was _not_ sitting in silence.

“Why do you care, Theo?”

Oh, well at least they’d progressed to asking the difficult questions outright. Theo glanced to the side at Stiles for just a minute. He’d had six months to come up with an answer to this question and he still didn’t have one that was good enough. So instead, he answered honestly. “I don’t know.” 

Stiles let out a bark of laughter. “You don’t know? You show up out of the blue, seem to actually have your shit together, convince _me_ to get my shit together, and you don’t even know why you did it?” 

“Would you rather I lied to you? Told you it was to get back into Scott’s good graces? Or to make up for all my past wrongdoings?” Theo chuckled quietly. “I’m in Scott’s good graces anyway. And I’m not deluded enough to believe I can make up for the damage I’ve done. I know you probably still think I’m Satan personified, but just once could you maybe believe I just didn’t want to see someone suffer?” 

“You never cared about me suffering in the past.” 

“That’s not true.” The words were out of Theo’s mouth before he could fucking stop himself. Why did all of his defenses seem to fail around Stiles? Theo had _years_ of practice pretending and putting on an act. Fifteen minutes in the car with Stiles Stilinski and he was apparently ready to spill secrets better kept hidden.

Stiles was quiet for too long after that. Long enough to make Theo nervous. “We were kids,” Stiles said finally. “Kids in the middle of a war we should never have been fighting. Sometimes, it’s easy to focus on what happened and forget everything that led up to it. The Doctors...they made you this way.” 

“Y’know, Stiles, I’m all for heart to hearts, but maybe not on that subject.” The conversation had taken a turn Theo hadn’t predicted – though he probably should have expected that from Stiles. “A lot of shit happened back then. It’s over.” He was _not_ interested in discussing what he endured at the hands of the Dread Doctors with _anyone_ , least of all a newly sober Stiles Stilinski.

Theo was grateful when Stiles let the conversation end there. He’d changed his mind anyway, maybe he did want the drive back to Beacon Hills to be silent.

\--

Theo had picked Stiles up because Scott and Noah had arranged a surprise ‘congrats on your sobriety’ party. Theo had intended to leave, but something about the way Stiles looked at him when he climbed out of the car – calculating, concerned, _tender_ – had him getting out of the car after him.

He’d kept himself mostly out of the center of it, watching as Stiles greeted his pack with a bright smile and beautiful, sparkling eyes. Theo couldn’t help the smile that slid onto his lips. Part of it was pride – he knew he’d had something to do with this, with getting Stiles to where he was today, and it felt _nice_ to have once again done a good thing.

The good he did now would never _erase_ the bad he’d done, but it helped. 

Theo wandered out of Scott’s house towards the deck, leaning against it and studying the dark woods behind the house. The moon – not quite full – was visible over the tops of the trees and they were just far enough away from the lights of a city to see the outline of stars in the sky around it. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here.” 

Theo really needed to stop letting his guard down. He turned smoothly though, careful not to let on that he hadn’t heard Stiles leave the house or walk up behind him. He was surprised at how close Stiles was standing, close enough for Theo to feel the heat radiating off his body. He smelled content, happy. It was a warm, musky scent, and lacked all the acrid tinges of loneliness and despair that had been in his scent the last time they’d seen each other. 

“I’m crashing here for the night,” Theo answered. “Didn’t feel like driving back to San Francisco tonight.”

Stiles nodded slowly. He stepped forward, placing his hands on either side of the railing, effectively caging Theo in. Theo knew he could break it, but a part of him didn’t want to. “I owe you,” Stiles said softly. “Without you I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Drunk and calling escort services in San Francisco, probably,” Theo winked, leaning back against the railing. He was surprised how comfortable he felt here, surrounded by Stiles and the night air and the sound of the pack in the distance. 

“A lot of back then is fuzzy,” Stiles said, his eyes fixed on Theo’s. “But, I do remember the sex being phenomenal.”

“Mmm.” Theo said, noncommittally. It _had_ been but he certainly wasn’t going to tell Stiles that. 

“If you don’t want to stay with Scott, you could come back to my apartment. I’m told it’s nothing special but, it’s private.” Stiles arched an eyebrow.

Theo _knew_ it was probably a terrible idea to agree to it. He knew that if he went down this road, let himself fuck Stiles just for the hell of it, outside of the job, it would be the start of something he couldn’t easily get himself out of. 

But he also hadn’t been able to get Stiles out of his head for the last six months. He’d known walking back to his car that their fuck that night had been more than just sex. More than just _a job_ but Theo had tried to keep up the facade. 

Instead of answering with words, he leaned up to press a kiss against Stiles’s lips, quick and chaste. “I’d like that.” 

Stiles grinned, wide and genuine and gorgeous. For that smile, Theo decided, maybe making a few mistakes was worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear from you over on Tumblr! Also, there's a promo gif for this that you can reblog to help it reach more people. My username on Tumblr changed recently, but I'm now found at [hale-argent!](https://hale-argent.tumblr.com/)


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